Dice doña Gaviota en el más puro estilo telenovelesco que la ofendieron y por eso se va a comprar una casita más lejos, que ya va a sacar su crédito de infonavit pa que no la estén chingando
(alguien que le explique que hay un innegable conflicto de interés, que el pedo no es lo que cuesta la casa sino que es ilegal hacer un contrato privado con un proveedor del gobierno… eso y que como funcionaria del DIF y esposa del presidente SÍ está obligada a rendir cuentas)
One of the best openings in independent horror, the camera pans across the screen toward a veiled young girl whispering rushed penance while the wistful theme plays only to climax and end abruptly with the crucifix being raised to reveal a knifed bottom. The original title was Communion, but I think the blood-splattered cursive Alice, Sweet Alice is more visually and thematically fitting for this influential slasher melodrama set in the early 1960s.
please please please pleeeeaaase write more protective!owen i can't get enough!!! :)
Okay. Couple of warnings. This got out of control melodramatic. Like teen drama melodramatic. What can I say, it’s that time of the month. I’m only a little sorry.
Also! There will be a part two, where the protective!owen part comes more into play. But I wanted to get this first part up in the meantime. Yeah. Also, this takes place sort of in my Christmas universe. Or, at least, in a universe where Claire and Owen were together on the island. Cool? Cool.
He got the call at work.
He thought it might be bad when Barry came clambering up the stairs, a frown on his face. Barry knew better than to interrupt him when he was trying to work with the girls.
“Phone call,” Barry told him. “It’s Claire’s sister.” Owen dropped the bucket he was holding, and rushed down to the office. Karen wouldn’t call him unless something had happened.
“It’s Claire,” Karen said breathlessly after he answered. “They couldn’t get a hold of you, and so they tried me. There’s been an accident, I don’t know anything else, I just don’t know anything.” She sounded fucking scared, and there are a million scenarios that run through Owen’s head, and none of them are good. They live on an island with fucking dinosaurs, not to mention a million other things in that jungle that could possibly kill them.
His phone was buried in a pile of paperwork in the trailer next to the raptor paddock, and when he dug it out he saw a slew of missed calls.
“I’ll call you back as soon as I know anything,” Owen promised.
“As soon as you do,” Karen insisted, and then disconnected the phone.
A father’s love is tearing through two weeks worth of garbage bags outside in 8 degree weather searching for a child’s lost iPod then not crying when it is found folded up in some clothes in the closet.
I have to miss some time this week and I came in to work all gung-ho, ready to say that breathing is more important than making money, and my boss graciously gave me the time off.
Several of my friends now have the tummy bug. We’re all passing it around, making sure everyone gets a turn. I’m the kind of guy that might call you up if you feel sick and ask if you want to go grab a drink or hit the dance floor or go get some ice cream. I’m a total hit at parties.
It’s weird when you’re young and watch a movie and then you watch another and you realize that Meg Ryan is not really in love with Dennis Quaid/Alec Baldwin/Tom Hanks/Kevin Kline/Nicolas Cage/Russell Crowe/Hugh Jackman. Hollywood is confusing.
The Olympics has been keeping me up late. I didn’t plan to watch much, just check in from time to time, but I’ve been riveted by some insane events, interpersonal connections, and the realization that something so incredible and unforgettable can happen to someone because of their physical abilities. You go, all you crazy athletes. I chose watching you over NBA All-Star weekend. Hooray, Marco Belinelli, though. At least the Spurs will have won something this year.
I got up this morning and thought that despite my busy schedule, possibly broken finger, uncertain future and terrible weather situation, I was in a pretty damn good mood. Don’t worry. I’ll try not to let it rub off on you.